


Distance

by afterhoursfiction



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bokuto is the mvp bless him, First Time, Hints of Depression maybe, Infatuation, M/M, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, Stern parents but really just Asian parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 16:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterhoursfiction/pseuds/afterhoursfiction
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou is a year older, and there's not much else Keiji knows about him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started on this way back, and just picked it up sometime last week. Kurooaka week happened to be going on and it went with day 3's prompt so...yea!
> 
> For this fic I've switched around their associations a little, so they attend different schools, etc. I really recommend listening to [fallingforyou](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3JJxS0gNkE) by the 1975 for the mood.

Kuroo Tetsurou is a year older, and there's not much else Keiji knows about him.

They only met at the convenience store, because Keiji stops by after school and Kuroo is always playing with a cat outside. The first time they meet, Keiji was picking up a packet of milk from the store. As he steps out, he notices the man crouching outside the store, and upon further observation, realises that he is playing with a cat. Keiji stares for a while, until the man looks up and gives a small wave.

"Do you wanna play with the cat too?" He cocks his head.

Keiji looks at the packet of milk in his bag. It's already sweating, condensation beading and running down the sides of the carton.

"No thanks." Keiji shakes his head.

They run into each other a few more times, Keiji buying different things - a bottle of coffee, a carton of juice, a packet of bread. Kuroo always looks up from playing with the cat and asks Keiji if he would like to join. Keiji thinks about homework, chores and dinner waiting to be prepared, and refuses. Kuroo just nods and waves goodbye, turning back to the cat who seems really friendly with him at this point.

 

One time, coming after practice, Keiji gets an onigiri from the store. He decides that he's too hungry to wait 'till he gets home to eat it, so he opens the packet as soon as he steps out of the store. Kuroo is there again, playing and cooing at the cat. Keiji watches, chewing and swallowing bites of onigiri rice. Soon after, Kuroo notices and looks up.

"Wanna pet her too?" He asks.

Keiji swallows the last bite of his onigiri and tosses the plastic in the trash nearby.

"Okay," he answers, approaching Kuroo and crouching down beside him.

"She's pretty friendly, so just put your hand out and let her know you," Kuroo says.

"I know how to pet cats, but thanks," Keiji smiles. He holds out his hand to the cat and sure enough, she nudges him and allows him to pet her.

"Just in case, since you always refused," Kuroo snickers. "Hey, you're a student? What's your name?"

Keiji looks at him.

"Well, it's alright if you don't wanna tell, I understand I'm a stranger-"

"Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji," Keiji replies. "Well, you are a stranger, but I don't think you're dangerous. I don't think dangerous people hang around convenience stores to play with a cat."

"Alright, if you say so," Kuroo laughs. "I'm Kuroo, Kuroo Tetsurou. How old are you?"

"I'm in my third year, so 17."

"Hmm, I'm a year older," Kuroo hums.

Keiji wonders if Kuroo is in college, or if he works.

 

After that day, Keiji starts finishing whatever he buys outside the convenience store instead of bringing it home, and he talks with Kuroo. At first they talk about the cat, and Kuroo shows Keiji where she likes to be scratched. Kuroo always asks how Keiji is doing, so Keiji talks about school and his club activities, about how he's doing in his subjects and how his team is playing. In turn, Kuroo tells him stories that seem to have come from scattered places of his life. Sometimes Kuroo tells a story from his childhood, about the time he nearly capsized the boat his father and him were on because he got too excited fishing. Other times Kuroo might tell a story from high school, about how he studied really hard for the wrong test and got really upset.

Keiji asks what Kuroo is doing, whether he is studying or working.

"I'm not studying but I work some part-time jobs." He answers.

Keiji doesn't ask what those jobs are, and Kuroo doesn't tell him. After a while Kuroo continues telling stories, and this time he's telling him about a beach he found driving around with a friend, and how they swam naked in the sea because they didn't have a change of clothes. He's not sure when this story is from, but since Kuroo mentions driving, it's probably recent.

 

* * *

 

On Friday Keiji's parents tell him they're going out for a dinner, and that they will be home late. Keiji promises he will have dinner and then do his homework in his room.

Those were his plans until he meets Kuroo outside the convenience store.

"Actually, I'm thinking of going somewhere tonight, want to come with?" He asks, rising to his feet and stretching his arms.

"Where?" Keiji questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Not sure, but that's part of the fun." Kuroo winks.

Keiji thinks of going home, cooking and eating dinner by himself, and then doing homework for hours. It's his routine, his schedule that gets things done. The word on the tip of his tongue is 'no', because Keiji needs to be home and do the things he was supposed to do. But Kuroo is smiling at him and inviting him, and Keiji hadn't been invited to anything in ages. So he pushes homework and promises to the backseat, and when he opens his mouth to reply the word that leaves is

"Okay."

 

Kuroo lets Keiji ride shotgun in his car while he drives, taking all the roads that lead out of the city. Keiji doesn't ask where they are going, only trusts that Kuroo knows what he's doing. The seatbelts are tight against their chest, the car pushing through the traffic and climbing in velocity. Keiji gazes out the window, at rows of streetlights and the trail of tailights along the highway, and tries not to think about his school bag and all his responsibilities in the backseat. He seems to be going far away, and he isn't even sure he'll make it back before his parents are home. He would worry about it - but glancing to Kuroo on his right, his lips curved in a sloppy grin and his hands casually curled over the steering wheel - Keiji wants to leave himself behind, for once.

Kuroo talks. He tells Keiji how he worked day shifts at the gas station and night shifts at 24-hour diners just to buy this car. It's a Mazda RX-8, a stunning coupe that had caught his eye as soon as it was released. He describes the smooth thrumming of the unique rotary engine; how its reliability lies in its simplicity. Keiji doesn't understand most of it. All he knows about cars is that his father drives a sedan and its a Honda. He doesn't know what a turbo-charged engine is, or why Kuroo prefers rear-wheel drive.

"You don't get most of this, do you?" Kuroo quips, the corner of his lip curving up.

"I'm sorry, I don't," Keiji answers honestly. "But your car is very nice."

Kuroo barks out a laugh, heavy and whole in the coupe.

"That's good enough," he settles. "What about you, Akaashi; what do you like?"

Keiji pauses to think. In all honesty, it had been a while since someone had asked about something he liked. People were always asking him about school, homework or club activities. It was understandable - his life mostly revolved around those, anyway.

"I like to...read, sometimes."

Ah. It already sounds awkward, leaving his mouth.

"Hm? Like what kindof stuff?" Kuroo spares a glance at him, before returning his eyes to the road.

Keiji ponders about it. When was the last time he had read a book? Between school, club activities, housework and the neverending barrage of homework, Keiji can barely find time for himself. The last time he had sat down to read properly was likely back in middle school. Could he still say it was something he liked?

"I like literary fiction."

"Oh? What's that?"

This conversation would likely head in a direction Kuroo couldn't follow, much like when Kuroo told him about his car. Still, Keiji tries. He explains that the books focused on the charm of literature, and how he loves the clever way the authors hid meanings between the lines. Sometimes there wasn't much happening, but it was plenty. He seemed to lose Kuroo at that point, who seemed perplexed at the idea of books without much action or adventure.

"Huh, I guess it's like when I talk about cars. All I get is that it's somehow deep and meaningful to you, so that's cool."

Keiji smiles.

"Yea."

 

It's nearly pitch black outside, save for the occasional flash of a streetlight. Keiji can tell that Kuroo had gone off the highway at some point, and was cruising through some industrial areas. He drives to the very edge of the industrial park, and pulls over.

Keiji leans to peer out the window.

"Is that Tokyo bay?" He glances back at Kuroo.

"Yeap." He nods. "Hey, you ever gone at 180km/h?"

Keiji stares at him; the lazy curl of his lips and the warm black of his eyes. Excitement purrs in his gut, thrumming like the engine under the bonnet.

"No, how does it feel?" Keiji answers shakily.

"I can show you."

Kuroo checks that Keiji has his seatbelt on right, gently promising that he won't let Keiji get hurt. Keiji's fingers are twisting in his hands, curling over the edges of the seat as Kuroo pulls away. He's probably just fearing for his life, a little. It was the same jitters he gets before a rollercoaster.

Kuroo settles back in his seat, checking the settings on the dashboard again before he shifts the car into gear.

As the car slowly gathers speed, Keiji can tell that this was different from driving on the highway. Kuroo seemed to feel the engine pulse under his hands, shifting as soon as it demanded it. There was a turn coming up ahead, but Kuroo's eyes never left the road, so he was ready for it. Keiji glances nervously at Kuroo as he eases on the gas, making a quick gear change before sliding the car into the bend.

It was nothing like the slow turns that his father made at the intersections. God, is Kuroo _drifting?_ The car slides through the bend, tyres squealing as they spin out along the road. For an inane moment, Keiji thinks they might hit the guardrail. But they don't. Kuroo kicks the car out of the bend, quickly returning to its ferocious speed.

Tokyo bay is soaring around them, the lights blurring into trails as the car tears through the road. The rest of the path runs straight, and Kuroo ploughs through it. It feels surprisingly good.

At some point the road must be ending, as Kuroo slows down to a stop. Each breath Keiji draws into his lungs is harsh, exhilarated. He turns to Kuroo beside him.

Keiji doesn't know if it was the seatbelt tight against his chest or the gleam in Kuroo's eyes and the curve of his lips that made it harder to breathe. The tease of a smile; then Kuroo grinning, and Keiji is falling hard. He doesn't know when Kuroo took off his seatbelt, but he leans over-

Their eyes catch; their breaths mix. Then Kuroo's lips are on his.

 

For the next second all Keiji is aware of is the sound of his heart flooding his ears, the blood colouring his cheeks and the soft, _soft_ kiss of Kuroo's lips.

Then it was gone.

Kuroo pulls away, leaning back against his seat.

"We got to 182km/h."

Keiji hums, but even his own voice sounded distant. Was that just a thing Kuroo did? Bring people for a drive and then kiss them? Should he ask about it?

Kuroo was acting as if he could have just brushed lint off of Keiji's shoulder. His fingers twist in his hands, agonised by his turmoil. Any words he tries to form just dies behind his teeth. He needs something to do. Keiji reaches for his phone in his pocket. As soon as the screen lights up, Keiji realises with a start that it was later than he had thought. There was a more urgent matter at hand. Keiji needs to be home before his parents.

"Kuroo-san, I need to be home."

Kuroo spares a glance at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Sure, I'll take you home now."

He turns the car around, and for the rest of the way home, it's quiet.

 

Keiji gets home right before 10, which is barely safe, but thankfully his parents weren't home yet. He thanks Kuroo for the ride, hastily pulling his school bag from the backseat. He wants to talk a little bit, or say 'see you again', but all he manages to choke out is 'goodbye' before he's kicking off his shoes and running into the house.

A few seconds after he slams the door shut, he hears Kuroo drive off.

 

* * *

 

Keiji misses him. He knows this as soon as he strips off his clothes and gets into the shower, where he finally has time to think. With any luck, he'll see Kuroo at the convenience store again. And maybe, he'll ask Keiji along for another drive. Keiji scrubs shampoo into his hair. He still doesn't know what Kuroo means.

The rest of the weekend is uneventful. Keiji uses the time on his homework, as well as to study for his upcoming tests. Filled with formulas and other things to memorise, there's almost no headspace for Kuroo. During the week, Keiji goes straight home after school. He wants to linger at the convenience store - see if he'll run into Kuroo. But Keiji wants to finish his homework so he can have his weekend free-

Free for what?

Kuroo never said that he would take Keiji on another drive. For all he knew it could have been a one-time thing.

His parents are visiting his cousin on the weekend. Keiji manages to exclude himself from the trip, claiming that he was busy studying for tests and doing homework. It was partly true - Keiji still has tests to study for. But he wants the weekend; he wants to have Kuroo on the weekend.

 

On Saturday, after a half-day at school, Keiji heads to the convenience store. Crouched at the storefront, swishing a blade of grass back-and-forth, was Kuroo Tetsurou. Just like Keiji imagined.

"Hey," he greets casually.

Kuroo looks up from the cat he was playing with.

"Oh hey. I haven't seen you all week, were you busy?"

"Yea, I had a lot of homework." Keiji bends down to stroke the cat on the head, tenderly scratching it behind the ear.

"Still busy on the weekend?"

"Not so much," Keiji answers nonchalantly.

Kuroo gives the cat one last pat before rising to his feet.

"Free to go somewhere again?" He asks.

Keiji smiles. Oh he had been waiting to say yes.

 

* * *

 

The drive is a little different this time, probably because it was still light. Still, Keiji enjoys it. Kuroo has the windows rolled down and the radio turned up. He had been yearning for this all week; chasing the music whistling through the stereo, the wind rushing past their cheeks and the low roar of the engine at their feet. At his side, Kuroo smiles like he's sharing a secret, like they were a secret all by themselves.

"How was your week?" Kuroo turns down the radio to speak over it. The good song had passed, so it was just the DJ talking.

"Tests and homework." Keiji grimaces.

"Wow, must be tough. Glad I'm out of school."

Here, Keiji wonders if Kuroo had really gotten out of school only a year earlier. To him, it seemed as though Kuroo had been out of school forever, driving this red coupe down highways and industrial roads, barrelling towards 200. He still doesn't know much about Kuroo.

"What about you, what did you do?"

"Me?" Kuroo taps the steering wheel, lips pursing as he maneuvers to another lane. "Well, it was a slow week...wasn't much to do."

"What _do_ you do?" Keiji frowns.

"Ah, I fix cars." Kuroo pauses to scratch his head. "Didn't I tell you?"

"You never did." Keiji shakes his head. "So you just fix people's cars?"

"Well there's a bit more than that..." Kuroo shrugs. He goes on to describe the type of work he gets, about how people come in with anything from a seized engine to accident-wrecked cars. He fixes what he can. Sometimes it's as simple as oiling the engine or replacing the spark plugs, but other times he has to look for new parts to replace the ones that were totalled. The job itself isn't too bad, though on occasion Kuroo has to deal with the few more distressed customers.

Keiji lets him talk. He doesn't really want to talk about school, when he's sure Kuroo had already been through it himself. They continue down the highway, until Kuroo eventually takes a different exit.

 

He pulls up beside a park as it starts to get dark. Their conversation had long fallen short, when Keiji skims over his school week, leaving little to say.

Suddenly, Keiji is reminded of the way Kuroo drove along Tokyo bay.

"Kuroo-san, how did you learn to drive?"

"Like anyone else, I took lessons." He shrugs.

"Normal people don't drive like that," Keiji presses.

He watches Kuroo stare out the window, his dark eyes fixed on somewhere further ahead.

"Yea, they don't," he concedes eventually. "I used to hang out with a bunch of guys who drove like that - _hashiriya_ , we were called."

"Used to?" Keiji quips.

"The seniors taught me how to drift, and we had fun running time attacks along the bay," Kuroo continues. "Then someone got into an accident, and we all fought and fell out."

"I see."

"That's the gist of it." Kuroo grimaces. "It's not something I talk about a lot."

"Sorry," Keiji apologises quickly.

"Nah, it's all in the past. Though I won't want to run into any of them now."

"Mhm," Keiji hums, twisting his fingers in his hands. In the quiet of the car, it feels like Kuroo had just shared a secret with Keiji. Keiji wonders if there was anything he could give back - some part of himself that he never talks about.

"When I was young I liked a book I borrowed from the library so much that I wanted to keep it for myself."

"Did you?" Kuroo prompts, amused.

"I tried."

Kuroo laughs loudly, throwing his head back against the headrest. It was nothing more than an embarrassing tidbit of his life, something small and maybe even a little lame. But somehow, it was genuinely amusing to Kuroo. Keiji laughs too, riveted by the awful yet infectious sound. When they finally settle down, Kuroo turns to him.

"Do you have to be home?"

"No." Keiji smiles. "I don't have to be home today."

 _I can go anywhere with you, Kuroo-san._ He doesn't say.

"Wanna see my place?" Kuroo grins.

 

When they get to Kuroo's flat it's sometime past eight. Kuroo warns that it doesn't look as good as his car, and Keiji says that he can't compare a house to a car. After leaving his shoes at the door, Keiji follows Kuroo into the house.

It's not as messy as he had anticipated, though the phrase that comes to mind is _it could be worse._ There's the loose laundry on his couch, an old takeout box on the kitchen counter and an empty beer can on the floor. Kuroo cleans this up swiftly, sweeping the trash into a bag and moving the laundry aside.

"Sorry about that." He grimaces, stepping into the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink? Eat?"

"Something to drink, please." Keiji takes a seat on the couch, and it sags under his weight.

"What about food? I've got uh...cup noodles." Kuroo waves the product at Keiji. "Do you mind?"

"No, it sounds good," he answers.

Keiji hadn't had instant noodles in forever. His mother had some kind of dissent against it, preventing Keiji from eating any as long as he was under her roof. He understood where she was coming from, but a little bit on occasion couldn't hurt. Besides, they had the uncanny gift of tasting amazing.

Kuroo sets the water to boil, offering Keiji a glass of juice as he waits. Keiji looks around the house, observing the absence of a television or a house phone. There was a couch and a small table in the living area, and a short hallway that led to the bathroom and a bedroom, he assumed. It was, of course, a lot different when compared to the larger house he shared with his family.

 

"Here you go," Kuroo says as he sets the steaming cup of noodles, along with a pair of chopsticks, before him.

"Thank you." Keiji pulls back the flap, inhaling the warm aroma of his dinner.

Kuroo takes a seat beside him, holding up his own cup of noodles.

"I actually haven't had cup noodles for a long time," Keiji admits. "My mum is convinced it will give me cancer."

"I'm sure everything gives you cancer, one way or another."

"Touché."

Keiji turns his attention to his dinner, and for the rest of the time they eat in silence.

 

* * *

 

It must be nine, or ten? Keiji couldn't be sure. His phone was in his bag, but the last time he had looked at it was before he even got into the car. He didn't _have_ to be home, but Kuroo would probably drive him back soon. He's pulling and twisting his fingers again. Without the presence of a television in the room, Keiji realises how quiet it can get.

"Akaashi," Kuroo starts. "Do you like being in the car with me?"

Keiji blinks.

"I do. I think it's fun."

"Really? You don't get bored, or car-sick, or anything?" Kuroo looks at him, incredulous.

"No, I really do enjoy it," Keiji answers honestly. He could name a multitude of things he loved about the drives; the radio, the wind, the miles and miles of roads - everything that demanded nothing of him. And of course; _Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo._

"Remember when you drove us along the bay, Kuroo-san? I really enjoyed that."

The exhilarating drive; Kuroo promising to keep him safe; Kuroo leaning closer.

"Yea? I haven't driven like that in a while." Kuroo laughs lightly. "It was fun."

 

Does it take the roar of a sports car? The narrow pass against the guardrail, the smears of Tokyo bay against the windows? Or does it just take the rush of air in their lungs; the blood loud in their ears for Keiji to taste, again-

He touches Kuroo's arm.

The words rise and fall in his head, capricious and unsteady. _Do you like me, Kuroo-san?_ It rises and dies in his throat, again and again.

Kuroo looks at him - there's no smile on his lips, or his eyes. He's just looking at Keiji, maybe thinking, or waiting.

Keiji's gaze flickers to Kuroo's lips. He licks his own.

It could be something on his face, or for real, lint on his shoulder. But Keiji prayed that it was none of those when Kuroo leans towards him. With eyes squeezed shut, he feels the gentle press of lips against his own.

Kuroo kisses him, and his head goes quiet.

"Akaashi," Kuroo murmurs.

Keiji peeks open his eyes, and realises how close Kuroo is.

"Kuroo-san," he echoes, hating how he chokes on the words.

Kuroo runs his hand over Keiji's arm, caressing it soothingly.

"Do you need me to drive you back?"

Keiji shakes his head.

"No, I can stay." He bites his lip. "I'd like to stay."

"Okay." Kuroo leans their heads together.

This time, Keiji guides their lips together. It's awkward at first, their noses bumping and their lips meeting clumsily. Kuroo cups his hands around Keiji's face, tilts his head and presses their lips together at an easier angle. He kisses Keiji slowly, pulling gently on his lower lip. Keiji's hands close around Kuroo's shirt, trembling as he kisses back.

"Mhm..." Keiji whimpers when Kuroo pushes his tongue into his mouth.

Kuroo sucks on his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips with his tongue. It rouses a chill up Keiji's spine, curling his toes. Keiji grips Kuroo tighter, pressing their faces - and their bodies - together. As he shifts in his seat, Keiji pushes his knee between Kuroo's legs, eliciting a low groan.

"Akaash-" Kuroo rasps out as he pulls away, fitting his hands around Keiji's hips and lifting him onto his lap. Keiji settles with his legs on either side of Kuroo, straddling him. Then Kuroo pulls him back for another kiss.

_"Do you like me, Kuroo-san?"_

It feels trivial in this heated moment, when all Keiji wants is to kiss Kuroo until the air in his lungs expire. He wraps his arms around Kuroo, pressing their chests together, until he was certain he could feel Kuroo's heart beating with the same tenacity as his own. He rocks his hips against Kuroo's, grinding together as they kissed.

When he was certain that he was growing dizzy, Kuroo pulls away.

"Akaashi, you've never...done this, right?"

"No, but I want to." Keiji pauses, inhaling sharply. "With you."

"Are you sure?" Kuroo touches his cheek. "We can stop, or just make out like this."

Keiji was scared. His breaths shake in this chest, the tremors fanning out into every fingertip, every touch. But if he looks away there is only his school bag slumped against the wall, weeks and weeks of obligations beyond that door. He doesn't even know when he can be with Kuroo like this again. It could be weeks, or even months. The moment he holds in his hands now is incredibly temporary.

He wants this. That bit of fear, he can get over it.

"Yes. I want to."

Kuroo strokes his cheek again, pecking him on the lips before easing him off the couch. Holding him by the arm, Kuroo leads him to his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

He sits Keiji down on the bed before settling beside him. Kuroo eases their clothes off with deliberate slowness, sneaking kisses against Keiji's skin. Keiji's body glows warm under his shirt, a red blush blooming over his chest. Kuroo kisses that, too.

Keiji shivers under his touch, equal parts excited and terrified. When Kuroo motions him to lie back on the bed, Keiji obliges, nestling his head between the pillows.

Kuroo crawls between his legs, and Keiji's heart climbs into his throat. Conflicting with the fervent way his heart pulses, Kuroo trails light kisses along his stomach.

"K-Kuroo-san," Keiji stutters.

He feels Kuroo smile against his skin, and then he's looking up and their eyes meet. Keiji takes in the shape of his dark eyes, hazy with lust; the lazy curl of his lips.

"Akaashi," he purrs.

Kuroo moves down, tilting his head to kiss the inside of Keiji's thighs. Keiji watches, much too afraid to move. If he moves, it might turn out to be a dream. If he moves, the real Kuroo might not want him at all. So he settles for closing his fist around the sheets, baring his skin and himself to Kuroo.

Kuroo's hands roam over Keiji's skin, igniting the nerves beneath. Then they settle on the waistband of his boxers, and Kuroo is looking up at him again.

"Can I?" he asks, voice soft like a whisper.

Keiji nods numbly.

"Yes."

"Okay, wait," Kuroo says as he gets up. Keiji watches him cross the room to the dresser, observing the attractive display of muscle and skin. His body was so beautiful, too. Keiji swallows, thinking about the peek of olive skin under Kuroo's collar and beneath his sleeves. Now, he didn't have to imagine the rest of it.

Kuroo returns to the bed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Keiji's lips before settling between his legs. Following the form of his thighs, Kuroo runs his hands up to rest on Keiji's hips. Then Keiji watches with bated breath as Kuroo dips down between his legs.

Keiji feels the soft press of lips against the front of his boxers, and then an exhale of warm breath. Kuroo mouths Keiji as he eases the boxers off his hips, until lips are meeting skin.

Keiji lets out a choked sound.

Kuroo reaches out to take hold of Keiji's hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Anytime you want to stop, just say so, okay?"

"Mhm," Keiji hums, nodding. Oh he wants Kuroo to keep doing things to him. Kuroo with his soft and gentle lips; Kuroo with his warm and calloused hands. Keiji wanted to follow him into the places furthest from his conscience.

Kuroo slips Keiji's boxers off, guiding the hem over the length of his legs. Then he's talking, telling Keiji what he's doing and to _relax, relax, relax._

Keiji doesn't even know if he can remember how to breathe.

He takes the first finger, and then a second, and a third before his hips are rising off the sheets, toes curling and mouth opening in a cry.

Kuroo rubs a hand over his hips. _It's okay, it's okay._ Keiji blinks away his tears.

Kuroo pulls away momentarily to reach for a condom, and Keiji takes that moment to take in this whole development. This whole sensation.

Then the moment passes and Kuroo is holding his hips, and Keiji has about a second to think if it will hurt before Kuroo sinks into him.

_Oh._

The gasp that leaves his mouth is harsh and sudden, a painful escape of air. The feeling of _Kuroo_...it was too real to dismiss as a dream anymore. He could feel him, alive and here, as a whole presence. His chest swells with a throbbing ache, and his throat closes up against the pressure. This all, this _everything_ \- Keiji doesn't know what to do with it.

Nothing to do but to lay his cards out, bare like his skin.

Kuroo rolls his hips, and Keiji keens. Kuroo leans over Keiji and Keiji relishes in him.

The crook of Kuroo's neck that Keiji presses his face into. The flex of Kuroo's muscles as Keiji wraps his arms around him. The musk of sweat in his messy, dark hair as it falls over his face. The low groan that rises in his throat when Keiji rocks against him. Keiji collects every detail of this moment, carefully putting it away in his head.

It's not like Keiji might never experience this again. It's just that even if he does, it will be different.

This musty bedroom with mismatching furniture, curtains drawn and a single ceiling light. He doesn't know how much of this he will remember. If he can, he doesn't want to forget anything. He wants this memory as intact as Kuroo between his arms, in his most private secrets. He wants to catch the fleeting dream in his hands and make it his.

He doesn't know why he keeps thinking he doesn't really have it.

Keiji's body quivers, heat pooling into his gut and he comes undone, easy in Kuroo's hands. A soft moan rises past his lips, kissing at the blade of Kuroo's shoulder. Kuroo moves through it, murmuring words into Keiji's neck that he can't catch, can't hear. Then, he slumps over Keiji, falling forward like they've always fit in each other's arms. Kuroo kisses his neck, a tired press of lips against skin. Keiji sighs.

The press of Kuroo's chest against him; the heat leaving in wisps of expired air. They lie in the moment, content for their breaths to mingle and their smell to soak into the sheets. Then with a slow, languid effort, Kuroo gets up and cleans them up. Keiji is too tired to feel embarrassed when Kuroo runs a damp towel over his stomach, his thighs. Kuroo slips Keiji's boxers back on, and then his own, before laying down beside him. The bed isn't very big, so it's even easier for Keiji to nestle his head against Kuroo's chest, to press his hands against his warm body. Kuroo pulls the blanket up around them, leaning into the dark mess of Keiji's hair and wrapping his arms around him.

All Keiji wants is to close his eyes and hold this dream while he has it.

 

* * *

 

Keiji wakes to the soft flicker of daylight in the room. His body seemed to have sunk into the bed overnight, a heavy and tired mass. Keiji blinks his eyes open, and realises Kuroo is still next to him. The sigh escapes him like a shiver, trailing goosebumps in its wake. In his head he's already pouring out his feelings to this boy, hushed and desperate connotations. Instead, Keiji doesn't disturb the silence, merely holds it as delicately as he can, pushing the hair out of Kuroo's face with the side of his palm.

Kuroo's eyes draw open slowly, struggling against the sleep caught between his lashes. Keiji freezes, the breath stilling in his lungs.

Then Kuroo smiles, the corners of his cheeks creasing in an unrefined way that seems just a bit vulnerable.

"Morning," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," Keiji echoes, even though more words are forming and filling his swelling chest. He has never been this close with someone. The intimacy was both new and frightening, heart-rending in the way it slipped between his ribs, wrapping around his weak, weak heart.

Kuroo runs his hand through Keiji's hair, massaging his scalp. Keiji sighs, content. Kuroo kisses him, the press of sleepiness on his lips. Keiji ignores the stale breath in his mouth, following in his lead and kissing back. They move, tangling their bodies lazily in the late morning. Eventually, they pull apart and Kuroo falls back against the pillows with a huff. Keiji just smiles, coy against Kuroo's arm.

 

"It's probably pretty late." Kuroo shifts to sit up. He extends a hand towards Keiji, pulling him up as well. "I should take you home."

The words has his gut twisting in guilt - Keiji hadn't checked his phone for the better part of the last twenty hours. He follows Kuroo into the living room. His bag was still slumped against the wall, untouched where he had left it last night. Fighting the unease bubbling in his stomach, Keiji searches for his phone. When he finds it, he realises that it had died, probably last night while he was making love to Kuroo.

"Kuroo-san, do you have a charger?" Keiji looks up.

"Hm? Yea, over there." Kuroo gestures to the tangle of cables beside the couch. Keiji quickly finds the right one and plugs it in to charge.

His parents had said they would be home around lunchtime. The clock in Kuroo's kitchen showed that it was nearly 11AM. Keiji decides to return to the bedroom to get dressed as his skin prickles with goosebumps.

 

He finds his clothes strewn on the floor, fallen from where they had been tossed without a care. He brushes down his crumpled school shirt before pulling it on and redoing the buttons. He finds his pants at the end of the bed, stepping into it and securing it with a belt. Despite being dressed now, Keiji still felt dishevelled, like he had just stepped out the bad end of a storm. The crinkles were stubborn under his hands, and he eventually gave up smoothing them down.

"Coffee?" Kuroo asks when he returns to the living room.

"Yes, thank you." Keiji takes the steaming mug from him, sipping at the drink. It was more bitter than he was used to, but he thought it might help him to wake up. In the meantime, Kuroo had dived back into his bedroom, presumably to get dressed as well.

Keiji returns to his phone, that has about a measly 9% of battery now. He unplugs it and switches it on, bracing himself as he did so.

There was a number of missed calls from his parents, and then a number of texts from his mum. Bracing against the guilt in his gut, he opens them.

 

_8:21PM_

>Keiji, have you eaten dinner yet? We'll be back soon tomorrow, remember to do your homework.

 

_9:46PM_

>We've switched to an earlier flight, so we'll be back much sooner tomorrow!

 

Keiji winces. If that was so then...

 

_10:05PM_

>Keiji, are you getting our messages?

>We called you earlier.

 

_8.14AM_

>We are on our way back

 

_10.17AM_

>Keiji did you go out??

>We're home.

 

After that it was a barrage of messages Keiji didn't really want to read.

 

>Keiji where are you???

>Our neighbour said they didn't see you come home yesterday

>Where are you??

>I'm so worried, please pick up your phone

 

The guilt eats into his heart like an awful poison. Keiji doesn't know what to reply.

At this point Kuroo comes up behind him, leaning his head against his shoulder. Then, he senses Keiji's uneasiness and glances at his phone. Keiji doesn't know what to tell him, so he lets him read the messages.

"Shit," Kuroo growls, taking hold of Keiji's arm and pulling him towards the door. "We gotta go. Now."

Keiji doesn't say anything, numbly following after him, only pausing to pick up his school bag.

 

They climb into the car, Kuroo slamming the door hard enough to startle Keiji. Then he kicks the car into gear, reversing out of the parking lot and driving onto the street.

The whole time, Keiji doesn't know what to say. The dream is falling from his hands, the light too harsh on their faces.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo says after a while.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Keiji pauses; fiddles with the phone in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

He still doesn't know what to reply, so he had left those messages unanswered. Keiji desperately tries to come up with something - he was over at a friend's house; his neighbour must have missed him and he went out; he lost his phone- The excuses fall short as soon as he makes them up. Keiji had never been this careless.

_I just wanted to be with him longer._

Childish, even just spoken in his head. And Keiji thought the good grades and leadership roles he took up meant anything. It hurt how young he was.

Kuroo brings the car onto the highway, slipping into the stream of late morning commuters. Silently, he rests his hand over Keiji's, squeezing it lightly before pulling away.

Keiji chances a glance at him, discerning the tight lines on his face, and returns his gaze to the window.

None of this driving or this secret they shared feels good anymore.

 

* * *

 

"Drop me off behind the convenience store," Keiji says as they pull off the highway. "I can walk home. I...think it'll be best if they didn't see you."

"Okay," Kuroo answers, turning into the street.

 

It's sometime past noon when Kuroo pulls over. Despite how long they've sat without a word throughout the drive back, the silence in this moment feels the heaviest.

Keiji's hand is on the door, but he can't bring himself to leave without anything. At this point, he doesn't know if he wants Kuroo to ask him to stay, to kiss him or to promise him.

"Goodbye," Keiji says.

When he glances back at Kuroo, Keiji almost wants to abort. Kuroo's hands, usually curled casually over the steering wheel, are gripping it so tightly his knuckles are turning white. His hair, typically a dishevelled bedhead, looked like he had not just rolled out of bed but had also walked through a storm. His eyes, always so bright and clever, looked _lost._

Kuroo, too, was struggling with a tumult of words.

"Goodbye," he echoes eventually.

Keiji doesn't know how many words Kuroo swallows back, or how heavy his heart weighs. Keiji doesn't know much about Kuroo, anyway.

He walks back alone, mouth dry of petty lies.

 

* * *

 

Keiji doesn't know what he expects when he gets back to his house, but silence wasn't it. He walks up to the door, hesitating before fitting his keys into the lock. Sure enough, he hears a muffled cry from his mother, a pair of heavy footsteps and before he can step into the house his parents have secured him by the shoulders.

"Keiji! Oh my god!" His mother exclaims.

"Hi," Keiji responds, wincing when she grips his arm a little too hard.

"Where have you been?" His father continues, incredulous.

"I was...out of town," Keiji says slowly. Clearly, his answer was not enough, so he adds

"With a friend."

"A friend? Keiji, why didn't you tell us? We thought you were abducted!"

His mother looks ready to start weeping. Meanwhile, his father is livid.

"Do you know how worried your mother was?" He all but bellows. "Who is this friend?"

Keiji cowers under his tone, suddenly feeling tears prickling at his eyes.

"H-he's just-" Keiji stutters, struggling to force the words through his closing throat.

"Who is he?" His father presses. "Tell me his name or I'm calling the fucking-"

"Wait- no!" Keiji startles.

He couldn't let this get worse. He couldn't get Kuroo into trouble. If it was really one or another, Keiji had to open his hand.

"I'll tell you his name! Just please don't call the police, he didn't do anything wrong, really."

Keiji was certain that despite his best efforts, a tear had snuck free, rolling down his cheek in treachery.

"Kuroo. His name is Kuroo."

"So you went with this 'Kuroo' guy and disappeared until now?"

Keiji nods.

"Where did you spend the night?"

Oh. Keiji wanted to disappear.

"Keiji! Did you...?" His mother stares at him, her eyes wide.

Keiji wanted to deny it. Make something up, just say that nothing happened and they might believe him.

"Fuck, look at his neck!"

He's losing it. Oh, he's losing the dream.

Easily enough, they push pass his collar and the deep purplish bruise rises up against his skin. Keiji's memory is coherent enough to know that Kuroo had kissed him there last night, and his parents are smart enough to understand what it means.

"Keiji, you're just a high-schooler!" His mother utters in disbelief.

"So...so what if I'm a high-schooler?" Keiji argues suddenly, raising his voice to match. "My _classmates_ have all done-"

A bright slap echoes across the room - across his face. She had slapped him.

His cheek stings red; his spirit bruises, defeated.

"I'm sorry," Keiji says, hanging his head. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

This time he doesn't blink back the tears - they fall forward, tumbling down his flushed cheeks. His parents mumble amongst themselves, and Keiji catches his mum saying "leave him be". Finally, after a few seconds of deliberation, his father tells him

"Go back to your room."

Keiji nods, moving past them into his room.

"I hope you'll understand that you're grounded from now on," his father continues. "When school is over, we expect you to be home in thirty minutes."

"Yes, I understand."

 

Keiji leaves his school bag by the desk when he enters his room. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, already down to a miserable 4% of battery life. As he plugs it in to charge, Keiji thinks about contacting Kuroo.

Oh. He never got Kuroo's number.

Suddenly, Keiji feels inexplicably forlorn. Their fleeting encounters outside the convenience store. The long drives; the music and their voices taking turns. Being at Kuroo's place; sitting on his couch, sleeping in his bed, sleeping with _Kuroo._ All of that, and yet now he had little evidence that it had happened at all. There wasn't a single sign of Kuroo on his phone; not a single number or name.

A sickening nausea begins growing in the pit of his stomach. The purplish bruise at the base of his neck throbs. Keiji grabs a change of clothes from his closet before quickly heading into the shower.

 

When Keiji strips off his clothes, he sees himself in the mirror. There are a couple of matching bruises over the expanse of his chest, and on the inside of his thighs. Collections of last night come back to him; Kuroo settled between his legs, kissing loudly against his skin. Keiji recalls the tease of teeth, the warm tongue, and then-

_Relax, relax, relax._

Keiji squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the memory back as he steps into the shower. He switches on the water quickly, standing under the steaming shower. Hot water bounces off his skin, trickling down to a puddle at his feet. He touches the marks on his chest and traces the ones on his thighs. He imagines Kuroo kissing them; he imagines Kuroo holding down his hips and imagines him moving.

In the moment, Keiji had been so sure Kuroo loved him. Keiji remembers their breaths mixing in the air and their sweat soaking into the sheets. But he doesn't remember Kuroo ever telling him. What had it been, really?

Keiji feels dirty.

"Fuck.." he mouths, pressing his head against the tiled wall and letting the water run down his back.

His eyes fix on the space between his feet. A heavy cold grips his stomach, and Keiji trembles involuntarily. Then suddenly, he's pressing his arms against the wall as he dry heaves.

He tastes the morning's coffee at the back of his throat, but manages to just hold it down. When the sensation finally subsides, a harrowing melancholy fills his chest. Keiji slumps against the wall as he sobs.

 

It takes a long time for his head to clear up. Keiji scrubs shampoo into his hair and soap over his body vigorously, but when the soapy water runs off, the bruises are still clear as day. Eventually he shuts off the water, stands in the stall with water dripping down his arms and only makes a move when he starts to shiver.

With a warm towel around his shoulders and a fresh set of clothes, Keiji feels only slightly better.

 

* * *

 

Returning to school feels like being in an estranged version of reality where Keiji had never meet Kuroo. The whole incident stayed within the walls of his house, so no one else knew about it. On one hand Keiji was thankful, but on the other his heart sunk. It was as if Kuroo was never a part of his life. Keiji continues to pass by the convenience store on his way home, though he never stops for anything anymore.

He never sees Kuroo.

 

On Saturday afternoon, Keiji runs into his neighbour outside his home.

"Oh- Good afternoon, Bokuto-san," Keiji greets. "Are you not at school today?"

"Hey! Yea, I came back for the weekend," Bokuto answers.

"I see. I hope you have a good day then," Keiji responds, turning to walk up to his house.

"W-wait Akaashi!" Bokuto blurts out. "Can I talk to you?"

Keiji blinks, puzzled.

"Sure, I'd just head inside and let my mum know I'm back first," he says, running up to the house. He wants to play it safe, remembering the whole rule of being grounded. However, His parents were generally friendly with Bokuto's family, so it was unlikely to be any cause for concern. After calling out to his mother, Keiji returns to the street where Bokuto was waiting.

"What is it?" He asks, plopping down on the grass beside Bokuto. It was a warm day, but the weather was generally good enough to be outdoors.

"Well, it's about last week actually," Bokuto starts. A familiar knot rises in his gut at the mention of that incident, but Keiji tries not to let it show.

"Your parents told me you were missing, and I got worried too 'cause I didn't see you come home."

Ah. Bokuto was the neighbour they talked to. So other than his family, Bokuto was aware of the incident. Keiji winces.

"I heard you come home afterwards, and I wondered what happened but I didn't dare to ask your parents so..." Bokuto trails off, shrugging.

"You wanted to ask _me_ what happened?" Keiji raises an eyebrow.

"Yea...They kinda left me hanging, and I was worried about you too!" Bokuto pouts, his bottom lip jutting out childishly.

Keiji couldn't help smiling. Sometimes he forgets that Bokuto was older.

"Well I...went out of town," he starts, reusing his words from last week. This time, he feels comparatively less distressed. Somehow over the years, between short exchanges on the street and occassional favours for household items, Keiji had grown comfortable around Bokuto. It even crosses his mind to tell him everything.

He looks to Bokuto, who nods encouragingly.

"I...met this guy outside the convenience store," Keiji continues, struggling to string it together in a way that made sense. "We run into each other a lot, so we started talking, and became friends."

Keiji still wasn't sure if 'friend' was the right label, but he decides to roll with it.

"One day he said he was going to drive around, and asked if I wanted to come along."

Bokuto listens patiently, absorbing it.

"That night my parents were out, so I went with him and got back before they were home." Keiji pauses, realising that he was revealing more to Bokuto. "So last week, he asked me again and my parents were visiting our cousin, so I went with him."

"Where did you go with him?" Bokuto asks. Unlike the way his father had almost shouted the words, Bokuto simply asked with a curious, inviting tone.

"He just drove me around, and then we went to his house."

Bokuto waits for Keiji to gather his words, to gather his courage.

"Bokuto-san," Keiji's voice breaks. "I don't know, I thought..."

Bokuto rubs his back.

"Hey, I did tons of stupid shit when I was your age! And still do, actually! Haha..."

"My parents probably want to kill him," Keiji says, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bokuto winces. "Who is he, Akaashi?"

"It doesn't matter, he left and I don't even know how to get hold of him...God I'm so dumb, I-"

"Akaashi, d-don't cry!" Bokuto flails as a sob bubbles out of Keiji. He tries to rub Keiji's back, then starts hitting it, stirring a coughing fit.

"Shit I made it worse uh-"

"It's fine," Keiji manages to cough out. "I'm fine."

"I almost killed you." Bokuto pales.

"No you didn't," Keiji retorts, rolling his eyes despite struggling to catch his breath.

Bokuto finally calms down, and Keiji regains his composure.

"His name is Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou."

Bokuto freezes. His eyes go wide.

 _"Kuroo?_ I...I know him."

 

Bokuto tells Keiji that they had gone to the same high school, where they met and befriended each other. It was a sports-niche school, and the both of them wanted to get on the regular line-up. Sometime in their second year, Bokuto was promoted to a regular because he 'was gifted with flexible shoulders and talent'. Kuroo was not. After that, they started to drift apart and soon Kuroo stopped showing up to the club.

Some time later, Bokuto heard that Kuroo had started hanging out with a couple of seniors who were related to the _hashiriya_ in the area. Bokuto never caught their name; maybe it was something like _'Tokyo Night Club'_ or something, since he _did_ know about the Mid Night Club from more than a decade back. When he ran into Kuroo again, Kuroo started to tell him about how he was going to get a driving license and then work to buy a car. At that time, Bokuto encouraged him because it seemed to make Kuroo happy, and he hated to see his friend dispirited.

For some time, they went their separate ways. Bokuto's team went to nationals while Kuroo went wherever he wanted. After graduation, Bokuto enrolled to a sports-niche college while Kuroo started working.

And then the accident happened.

Bokuto was never sure of the details, but Kuroo suddenly looked him up again and asked to hang out. Bokuto agreed readily, and they spent the rest of the month going around to different places in Kuroo's car. They had fun, but soon enough Bokuto had to return to school. He wasn't sure what Kuroo did after that.

 

"Bokuto-san, do you think you could get in contact with him for me?" Keiji asks hesitantly.

"Oh, I still have his number. I can call him for you." Bokuto pulls out his phone from his pocket, opens up his contacts and hits dial.

It's so quiet that Keiji can hear the dial tone ringing from his phone, and then a murmur that must be Kuroo.

"Hey Kuroo!" Bokuto greets brightly. "What, can't a man call you 'cause he misses you?"

There's a pause where Kuroo speaks.

"College? Yea it's fine-" Bokuto turns to Keiji. "Hey actually there's someone who wanted to talk to you..."

Keiji's fingers twist uneasily.

"His name is Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji - you know him, right?"

Silence.

"Come on man, he's looking at me right now."

There's some more muttering, and then Bokuto hands the phone to Keiji.

 _Talk to him,_ Bokuto mouths.

Hesitantly, Keiji accepts the phone and presses it to his ear.

"...hello?"

"Hey," Kuroo echoes, and Keiji can almost imagine the tired smile to match. "How are you? I'm sorry about just...leaving."

"I'm fine," Keiji sighs. "My parents just grounded me. They probably would have tried to kill you if you showed up, anyway."

"Haha," Kuroo laughs weakly. "Anyway uh, you probably already know this but I don't think we should continue seeing each other."

Keiji knows it; he does, but his heart still sinks.

"I understand that," Keiji answers, struggling to keep his voice steady. "But I would like to know something - Kuroo-san, do you like me?"

It hadn't really been his plan to _ask_ like that, especially not in this situation, but then again Keiji hadn't really thought of any plan.

"...Akaashi, I don't think I can-"

"You don't think you can like me?" Keiji presses. Bokuto starts to look a little uneasy, but remains by Keiji's side.

"No, that's not it." Kuroo lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry for leading you on but I'm not good for you so we shouldn't-"

"What are you talking about?" Keiji interjects, exasperated.

"Akaashi, I'm sorry-"

"Stop."

Silence. Slowly, Keiji gathers his composure.

"I want to see you," he says softly. "I'll figure out an excuse to be out. Is that possible?"

"...yea," Kuroo breathes. "Okay, next week."

"See you," Keiji mutters, before ending the call and handing the phone back to Bokuto.

"Thank you, Bokuto-san. And, I'm sorry about this."

"No, no it's fine! I have free minutes anyway!" Bokuto waves anxiously. "Anyway, I'm just glad you got in touch with him. I was really worried that you seemed sad..."

"You don't have to be, Bokuto-san." Keiji gives him a wry smile. "Oh but...I might need another favour, if that's okay with you."

"Of course it is! Unless it's money 'cause I don't have...much."

"It's not money," Keiji assures him. "I...want to see Kuroo again. But I need a reason to be out and my parents trust you so..."

"Oh...huh."

 

* * *

 

A week later, Keiji manages to make something up. He tells his parents that he was going to check out Bokuto's college at their open event. He tells them that the event takes place at night, so Bokuto would pick him up after dinner and they would be back by eleven. With the story all set-up, Bokuto comes to pick him up sometime before nine on Saturday night.

"Take care, Keiji!" His mum waves him off as Keiji gets into Bokuto's car.

"Yea, I'll text," Keiji promises as he slams the door. Bokuto gives his mum a thumbs-up, shooting her a reassuring grin before driving off.

 

Bokuto is driving Keiji to the bay, where he would meet Kuroo. As he pulls into the highway, it starts to feel reminiscent of the times he had been here with Kuroo.

"Akaashi, you alright?" Bokuto shoots him a tentative glance.

"Yea," Keiji breathes. He still isn't sure what to say to Kuroo or what their relationship would become, if there was one in the first place.

Streetlights filter through the windows, warm bursts of light skimming over their faces. Keiji couldn't help thinking about Kuroo being in the car instead, talking over the soft lull of traffic. But he was in Bokuto's car - his father's car, to be exact. It was a grey Toyota sedan, a common make and colour, without a doubt the ideal family car. Kuroo's coupe appeared carefully picked out, seemingly chosen around his personality.

"I think Kuroo was lonely," Bokuto says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Why do you say that, Bokuto-san?" Keiji turns away from the window to look at Bokuto.

"Well 'cause after the accident," Bokuto moves a hand to scratch at his head. "All the guys he used to hang out with were just...gone."

"Oh."

"I guess when something awful happens, sometimes it tears people apart."

"Huh...you suddenly seem more poignant," Keiji remarks.

"Really? Hey my mum said I seemed more mature! Do you think so?" Bokuto asks eagerly.

"A little," Keiji concedes with a small, polite smile.

 

After some more driving, Bokuto takes an exit onto the bay. He pulls over at the edge of an industrial park. Keiji recognises it as the same place Kuroo had brought him on their first drive.

Parked across the street, was the familiar red Mazda.

Keiji swallows. For the past week, he had agonised over Kuroo. His mind played on their limited memories together in Kuroo's car, in his home, in his bed. Keiji had seen his face over and over again, the crease of his lips and the heat in his eyes so real Keiji could almost touch him. Then Keiji had heard his voice, apologising, and his face falling.

"Akaashi?" Bokuto peers at him, concerned.

"I'm fine," Keiji answers, exhaling shakily.

Bokuto doesn't seem convinced, but he gives Keiji a pat on the back before stepping out of the car. Keiji gives himself a few seconds in the car, taking a deep breath before following after him.

 

Bokuto was already at Kuroo's car, talking to him. Keiji couldn't catch what they were saying - they were probably just catching up. As he approaches them, they look up.

"Hey," Kuroo says. A painful yearning stirs from within Keiji's chest, tender and heavy.

"Kuroo-san," Keiji responds, taking the last few steps to reach them.

"Akaashi." Bokuto touches his shoulder. "Do you want me to stay or-?"

"It's okay, I'd like to be alone with Kuroo-san," Keiji answers. "Thank you, Bokuto-san."

"I'll come back in an hour then," Bokuto says. "See you!"

He waves at them as he returns to his car.

"Bokuto!" Kuroo calls out.

Bokuto pokes his head out the window.

"Thank you."

"Ya, you owe me!" Bokuto shouts back as he drives off.

They watch Bokuto's car go down the street, until its taillights vanish behind the corner.

 

"Bokuto's a good guy," Kuroo remarks.

"He is," Keiji agrees. "My mum adores him."

"Must be flattering," Kuroo smiles.

Keiji leans against the red coupe, eyeing the way the lights traces its polished body.

"Do you wanna go for a drive?" Kuroo asks, opening the door on his side.

"Where to?"

Kuroo shrugs, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Anywhere."

Keiji gets into the passenger seat. The doors slam behind them, and then they're back in the car the same way they were before. It was almost as if time hadn't moved at all.

"How fast can this car really go?" Keiji asks, looking over the dashboard.

"I've done 250," Kuroo answers.

"Can you show me?"

"Put on your seatbelt," Kuroo says as he starts up the car. Keiji quickly fastens his seatbelt, and then the car pulls onto the highway. It was nearly 10PM, and the traffic was sparse. The highway stretches beyond them, extending for miles. Keiji's eyes alternate from the dashboard to the road as the car starts to gather speed.

This road was long. Much longer than the one they had ran many nights ago. Traffic was light, with enough miles for the RX-8 to stretch its legs. Kuroo changes up the gears as the engine grew into a familiar momentum, heavy as it runs under the bonnet. The numbers on the dashboard climb as the edges of the road blur, streetlights flashing pass them. Keiji's heart, caught tight behind the seatbelt, is growing excited.

This must be what Kuroo loved. The smooth thrum of the engine and the momentum of its movements ploughing them down the highway.

_220km/h_

Keiji catches the number before he looks up and sees them flying towards a black hatchback.

"Kuroo-!" Keiji cries out. Kuroo swerves into another lane, narrowly avoiding the bumper. He slows down, easing into a friendlier 100km/h and cruises alongside the few other cars on the highway.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo apologises, his eyes on the road.

Keiji doesn't reply, saving his breaths for calming his heart. There was no music, no wind whistling through the windows, nothing but the silent grip of tension.

 

* * *

 

 

Kuroo takes an exit off the highway, coming to a quiet part of the bay. They pass a sports complex and a few warehouses, places that Keiji thinks might have been busy during the day, but had became desolate at this time. He continues driving down toward the bay, finally pulling over in a parking lot beside a closed port. They get out of the car, and Keiji follows Kuroo to the end of the lot. Kuroo sits by the bay, his feet dangling over the dark ocean.

Across the bay, blinding lights litter the ocean like stars, glowing in a hazy constellations. Operating ports, passing ships, buildings and traffic - everything moved in their own mundane fashion. After all, even as Keiji sat down beside Kuroo, exposing himself to the whims of nature, the world still moved. The ocean toils endlessly, waves lapping at their feet as the wind drags goosebumps across their skin.

 

"Earlier on," Keiji starts. "Bokuto-san said that he thinks you were lonely."

Kuroo glances up for a moment, before reverting his eyes to the ocean.

"He said that?"

Keiji nods.

"He might be right about that," Kuroo says with a hollow laugh. "I think I've been pretty selfish."

"Selfish?" Keiji frowns. "In what way?"

Kuroo bites his lip, looking up slowly into Keiji's eyes.

"I invited you on my drives because I just wanted someone there," Kuroo sighs. "With you around, I could talk and drive around like I was showing you things. Maybe all that was fine but...I shouldn't have brought you back to my place."

"Kuroo-san...I just want to know," Keiji begins, voice shaking against his will. "Was I wrong to think that you liked me back?"

A long, suffocating silence extends between them. Behind Keiji's eyes, the blur of lights are starting to discolour like the bruises on his chest. Nausea tickled in his gut, but he pushes it back. _Not now, not now,_ he thinks.

"No," Kuroo answers eventually.

"Then-" Keiji starts, hope trembling in his chest.

"But we should stop," Kuroo cuts him off. "I should have restrained myself. I hurt you, didn't I?"

 

The past few weeks hadn't been easy. For the first week, Keiji couldn't meet his parents' eyes. His mother grilled him about Kuroo every night, firing question after question until Keiji grew exhausted. _How old is he? Was he with anyone before? Do you even know his history?_

Keiji didn't know the answers to most of her questions. Every time he admitted it, he got another one of her _looks_. He didn't know what cut deeper - how she was tearing him apart or how he realised that he barely knew anything. As for his father, Keiji got the cold shoulder.

Still, Keiji beat himself up the most.

 

Now he was with Kuroo again. Keiji had wanted this for the longest time. He had thought agonizingly hard about how he would touch and kiss Kuroo; about how brightly his heart would _burn_ for this man.

"I just need you." Keiji shakes his head, reaching out for Kuroo's arm. "I just need you and I'll be fine."

Kuroo pulls away.

"Stop making this harder," he says firmly. "We need to stop seeing each other."

Something stirred in Keiji - a storm, a desperation, _pain._

"You're the one who needs to stop being difficult!"

"Right!" Kuroo bites back. "So you want me to keep driving you around at night, then take you back to my place and fuck?"

Keiji winces.

"Does this really make you, or me, _fine?"_

 

Keiji couldn't understand the hurt in Kuroo's eyes. He didn't know where it came from, except that it smoldered like old ash in his eyes. All Keiji really knew was the coy curl of his lips and his relaxed fingers against the wheel. This was Kuroo behind all his defenses - Kuroo who drove aimlessly, made mistakes and hurt Keiji. This was new, frightening and real.

 

"I'm sorry for leading you on, I really am," Kuroo continues, his voice gentler. "But if we run off on this, we might never make this right. I want to stop this before I get too self-absorbed; before I run us into a wall because I'm thinking of me and not you."

Keiji chews on his lip, weighing his thoughts. It was scary but he didn't want to give up, even if it was easier.

"Kuroo-san," Keiji says slowly. "I want to know you better."

He reaches for Kuroo's hand, and this time Kuroo doesn't pull away. Slowly, Keiji closes his fingers over his palm. He waits; he lets the ocean settle, the wind simmer and the lights dull into the corners of his consciousness.

"Okay," Kuroo answers, and squeezes his hand.

Keiji leans into Kuroo, sighing against his shoulder. He feels Kuroo's arms wrap around him.

 

"I need to be back," Keiji says. They have a little more than a half hour before 11. This time, Keiji remembers his promises.

"Mhm." Kuroo releases him and pulls back.

Keiji retrieves his phone from his pocket, typing up a quick text to Bokuto, and then his mum.

"Kuroo-san," Keiji hesitates, holding the phone out to him. "Could you-"

"Sure." Kuroo takes the phone from him, entering his contact.

 

_Kuroo Tetsurou_

_XXX-XXXX-XXXX_

 

"I don't know when I can see you again, but there is that." Kuroo passes the phone back.

This is the piece of Kuroo in his life.

"Thank you," Keiji says. Kuroo smiles, the same smile that has Keiji falling and falling for him. And _god,_ was it hard to pull away from that.

They get up and return to the car, driving away from the bay.

 

Keiji still wants him. He still wants to lean over - to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed, to dream and to be dreamt about.

But Kuroo Tetsurou is a year older, and further away than ever. Between them, the distance is a year of highways, adrenaline rushes, cruel loneliness and secrets. The dream isn't perfect, and he aches for it but a dream isn't what Keiji wants. His heart burns, naive but ecstatic with the energy of a seventeen year-old. It doesn't run smooth like the machine under the bonnet, but it grows and it yearns.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on [tumblr](http://afterhoursfiction.tumblr.com)


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